


Middlescence

by notjustmom



Series: Words, Words, Words [261]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluffy Angst, M/M, Mary never existed, angsty fluff, not season 4 compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 14:50:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10192343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: middlescence: noun: mid-l-es uh ns: the middle-age period of life, especially when considered a difficult time of self-doubt and readjustment.Blend of middle and adolescence, first entered the English language in the 1960s.





	

They were well into middlescence, the chases had become less 'leg work' and more internet research; John's hair to Sherlock's delight had gone that silver shade that dazzled in the sunlight, and of course, much to John's chagrin, other than the occasional knee twinge, Sherlock seemed to not age quite in the same ways as he did. Sherlock did remind him from time to time that John was a bit older, which earned him a glare hidden by the ubiquitous newspaper, and the silent treatment until Sherlock brought him a cuppa and toast with jam.

There were mornings, though, when John saw the past creep into Sherlock's face, and he knew that all Sherlock could tolerate was to stay in bed, entangled in his blogger's arms and legs, his face nuzzled into John's chest, his hands wrapped around both of his wrists. John never asked for the stories, and Sherlock never said, would never tell him.

"Why don't you write it down?"

"What?"

It was a good day, a bright, gentle spring morning and they were just sitting side by side on their bench in the park, hands entwined, eyes closed.

"You know, things, the things that -"

Sherlock shook his head, then opened his eyes and stared out into the green, peaceful day, but seeing nothing. "I can't, John. You have never been able to see what happened to you in Afghanistan in words, either on the screen or in your own hand, have you? It's like reliving it, isn't it? I can't go back and live that again; all I want is to be here, with you. I know I have bad days, and I'm sorry for that, but you know I can't therapy it away, you, of all people should know that."

John nodded, and held Sherlock's hand tighter. "I'm sorry, love, I just wish -"

"I know, John." Sherlock picked up their hands and kissed John's fingers. "I know."

John cleared his throat and mumbled, "coffee?"

"Coffee." Sherlock turned and smiled at him softly. "And cake?"

"Of course, cake." John kissed him gently, and helped him to his feet. "I love you," he whispered against Sherlock's chest.

"Love you more."

John pulled back to look into Sherlock's sparkling greenblueness, and saw the truth of his words.

"I know."

Sherlock sighed, and pulled John back into a warm embrace, then rested his cheek in John's silver hair. "I don't mean it like that, never like that. I just don't have any room in my heart for anyone or anything but you, do you understand? You, your love is more than I could have ever wished for John, don't ever doubt that."

"Coffee?" John breathed out after a long silent moment, where all he could feel was Sherlock's heartbeat, all he could hear was his breathing, and he held onto his love just a bit tighter.

"Coffee."


End file.
